


Footnotes

by Clewilan



Category: Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Domestic, F/F, Ficlet Collection, Pre-Series, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 13:16:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2733983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clewilan/pseuds/Clewilan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between the lines of arthurian legends, smaller than the matter of Britain yet essential to her background as Servant, lies the story of a king and her queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo the deal was to rewrite the whole arthurian myth with Arturia and her canonical wife Guinevere being happily married, but I doubt my lifespan will be enough to work on a story that's been going on for century. Please have some super short ficclets instead, snapshots of their time together.
> 
> Many thanks to Runa Liore Winters (@invocative on tumblr) for the diligent beta !! One day I'll be skilled enough to pretend I'm a native speaker.

It was not winter yet, but a dry cold was settling in so quickly that everyone feared the worst for the darkest weeks in the year, as their fires were already burning longer every day. A nasty wind was making every crack in walls and door frames whistle and was seeping even through the thickest sleeves. Up the steps of the castle entrance, waiting in open air for Lord Cnidel's carriage and his entourage, Guinevere felt unarmed against the cold.

They had almost given up on the man, so when he was finally announced, the castle began bustling around - rooms had to be heated, linen and flowers had to be changed as they had been waiting for some days already. Between helping setting up the guest rooms, and last minute staging, Guinevere's fur-lined coat was probably forgotten in her room.

Yet she would not shiver with everyone watching.

"Are we supposed to wait for the solstice for them to eventually arrive ?" she muttered under her breath.

The king pretended not to hear anything, but her queen had become skilled enough to read her when they where in public. With both of them bound by their roles, noticing joy in the corners of each other's eyes, disappointment in a tensed swallowing, anger in white fingers clenched around Excalibur's hilt had become something almost necessary for survival.

Besides, Guinevere would never miss an excuse to take a peek, nor would she be tired of the court's games. Except for some parts - she had seen worse during some campaigns, but slowly freezing in front of her own home for a man neither of them trusted was getting irritating.

"That's not funny," she carried on between her teeth, because Arturia's smile might be invisible but she could feel it dancing in the air, "you're not the one who'll have to spend the evening embroidering a vain pattern as a gift to Lady Elyone's most recent addition in an apparently quite prolific lineage - the country will soon be populated only with members of their family."

"At least you don't have to go through every single detail on how Cnidel conceived said children," Arturia replied eventually, softly yet still not looking at her queen as her eyes focused on the guards opening Camelot's entrance.

She had done her best to sound neutral about that upcoming conversation but Guinevere knew how appalled she was and muffled a laugh.

"You do have a point," she admitted with a smile as everyone was looking at the arriving carriage. "But at least you get to drink - I'll have to leave with Elyone's party before the third course, because as usual the singers will upset her, then her private sybil's will reward us with so-called prophecies about our coming downfall."

Her tone was more bitter than planned yet no one around noticed - except Arturia, of course, who also realized how pale her lady's complexion had become. Offering Guinevere her own pelisse was the best excuse she could find to whisper that she could bring some wine in their room later in the night, once the welcome ceremony was over.

"Do you happen to have something in mind ?" teased the queen.

"I can assure you it's not embroidery."

There was a bit of hunger in Guinevere's smile but she bit back her reply as Cnidel was finally on his feet, some equerry already efficiently taking care of his horse. A quick look at Arturia and her hardened face confirmed her the King was back, and the Queen followed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a ton of Arturia/Guinevere moments but I'm slow and lazy : not many of said moments actually get written, and when they do it's apparently two years later, welp. Thank you if you're actually coming back, reader, and welcome !  
> That ficclet was inspired by a line (Guinevere's in the text) from Emilie Simon's song, Flowers, which got stuck in my head for soooo long.  
> I'd like to thank the lovely Runa again for her super amazing beta.

Having to stop every two steps was part of the deal. When they actually wanted to enjoy a simple walk in the market, you might spot two girls slipping away from the castle early in the morning, clothes and cloaks borrowed amongst the drying linen and hair dancing in the wind. Yet today they were here as King and Queen : forgetting to salute and bless a single buyer or seller on the marketplace was not an option – distractions were... saved for later and would probably be forgotten in the meantime.

Protocol and symbolism ruled every move: between people's embraces and children's kisses, they were buying both small things from every stand and actual supplies for the castle, purses always ending empty when they left. Today was no exception to their weekly routine, but there was a small new girl just outside the market, on her own among a heap of hastily assemble wildflower bouquets.

Guinevere quickly looked at Arturia, not to seek permission, but to be sure she wasn't overstepping her rights. Her king hid a smile – as if she could stop her - and Guinevere let go of her hand, a song starting come on her lips.

"I want to buy you flowers – such a shame you're a boy," she teased before walking to the little seller, loud enough for their companions to hear and laugh, serious enough for Arturia to wonder about the joke.

Guinevere was already squatting next to the girl and started a friendly chat. As no one could resist the queen's smile, the girl shyly explained in her ear she couldn't afford a proper spot on the marketplace and wasn't supposed to come back until she sold everything. Guinevere nodded, and whispered back – they talked for a while until the Queen rose again, slipping one of her rings into the girl's hands with a wink.

She gave no explanations whatsoever on their trip back, but Arturia had her answer when they reached their room several hours later, the flowers covering every available surface.

"Well, now that you've reached our bedroom, I'm allowed to offer you flowers now, right ?" shrugged Guinevere, utterly not embarrassed.

"You are definitely mad," replied Arturia, shaking her head yet unable to hide a sparkle of delight in her eyes.

Her wife just smiled and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"I'm actually quite proud of the choices I've made in my life, dearest, don't you ever doubt it."

 

 

 

 

 

.:.

"Nor my sanity – look, I'm not forgetting to lock that door so I can properly take care of that lace _asking_ to get untied."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks again to Runa for her amazing (and life-saving) beta !!  
> This was written for the [Lions and Crowns anthology](http://lions--and--crowns.tumblr.com/post/150731408570) with a matching piece from my girlfriend ❤

The night was finally quieting down, far from the fuss of the evening celebrations. Even though it worked out almost surprisingly perfectly – maybe their knights had behaved because they wanted to impress their foreign guest – both King and Queen were glad to escape considering the wealth of events planned on the morrow.

They had called off the servants as usual – especially at such an indecent hour – arguing that they were mature enough to undress without help. Their bedroom had been heated before their return, though, and Arturia was already planning on thanking the intendant first thing in the morning. Despite the appreciated warmth, it only fully felt like home the moment Guinevere gently stole a kiss from her, singing to herself a melody heard during the banquet as she was already removing her pelisse.

The chair creaked as she sat down next to Arturia, distractedly toying with the pearls of the headdress gifted to her tonight. She had put on the delicate ornament embroidered on a soft piece of fabric without help the very moment the ambassadors had offered their presents, with a dexterity that kept on amazing Arturia even after all this time, and a delight that made a great impression on their guests.

"So you're famous all the way to Constantinople."

"I wouldn't say _famous_."

"You just knighted the emperor's son on his specific request ; and they gifted us with so much we could feed the kingdom for a decade", she gestured at the trunk sent to their room, one of the many still waiting in the neighbouring storing areas of the castle. "At this rate I'm just glad they didn't send you a few new wives, you know."

Arturia simply glared; Guinevere yielded with a giggle.

"You're too kind, my King."

"I've been told so."

"And you've been told you're loved as well. Probably not enough", Guinevere added with a sigh, nesting her head against Arturia's shoulder as she softly intertwined their fingers.

"Sometimes you don't need to hear it", whispered her king, resting her head as well.

Guinevere grunted.

" _Arturia you're exactly the kind of person who needs to_ even when you swear all the gods you don't. And no", she added as she heard her inhale, "no objection will be allowed – so trust me when I say that I will be around to tell you."

"Who am I to oppose a queen ?"

Both knew it was just a temporary truce not to get too deep into further serious discussion tonight, but Guinevere conceded this one.  
They stayed quiet for a bit, reviewing together the arrangements planned for the next day. The warmth was comfortable, and being just able to enjoy each other's presence – far from anyone or any obligation – was a gift as usual. Yet…

"Arturia ? The hair ornament is gorgeous but terribly…"

"Uncomfortable with our heads like this ? The pearls are indeed a bit scratchy but –"

"I'm so sorry !" Guinevere quickly straighten up, her fingers going to Arturia's jaw.

"But I'm fine", she finished, resting in her wife's palm. "You do look amazing with it. You do look amazing with anything, really, it could almost be upsetting if I wasn't busy staring all the time."

Guinevere didn't often blush; making her was always some of Arturia's favorites victories.

"Sweet talker."

"I speak nothing but the truth, my Queen. A truth also sung by many, thus I dare say I'm not the only famous one in this castle."

"So many kind words tonight – would you by chance have any further interests courting me like this, my dear."

Her playful tone showed she was regaining her composure. With a kiss, she got up – as queenly as usual, dusting her dress for the sake of it as it was still immaculate.

"None, for I wish I could do it all day long, yet I could most definitely get used to this", sighed Arturia with Guinevere now settling on her back, starting to untie the ribbon in her hair to comb it with her fingers.

"Maybe we could make it a habit then."

"Gladly", the King replied, leaning against her wife's chest.

Guinevere resumed singing with a satisfied smile, which only grew when Arturia suggested they could also carry on with the suggested further intentions.

"It would certainly be unwise when we have so much to do on the morrow, dearest, but the thought is very much appreciated. Would you be kind enough to fulfill a request, though ?"

"There's no way I could refuse you anything right now, you know."

"Well, you could."

"I trust you, Guinevere. Please just make it reasonable before we go to to sleep or wait till the morning where you can have anything, really."

Her queen chuckled.

"It's not much, really. It's just that you love fancy clothes and we just got offered a ton of amazing jewelry I'd love to see you try some on – I do owe you a crowning, don't I ?"

"You don't owe me any kingdom-related thing, sweetest. And for now I'm all yours."

Guinevere hummed happily. She took a few minutes to search in the trunk, her expressions of disapproval or interest showing clearly on her face with each items she picked, which was always a delight for Arturia. She came back soon to her, a skillfully crafted tiara in her hands.

"This was undoubtedly made for a lady to wear", objected Arturia.

"And who exactly do you think I'm bedding."

"I meant that I won't be able to –"

"I know what you meant and what's at stake, Arturia – but here, right here, there's only the two of us and a ridiculous bedroom ceremony that have no further consequence than me having more reasons to marvel at the woman I married. So let us have this, maybe ?"

She held out her hand, relieving Arturia of making an elaborate reply she would have had a hard time phrasing – which she was thankful for. She got down on one knee, her hand still in Guinevere's, who just shook her head and knelt as well.

"Bedroom ceremony, remember ? Let's do it another way."

She leaned further, expertly placing the tiara on Arturia's head before kissing her.

"Hopefully you won't crown anyone else", exhaled Arturia, pressing their foreheads together.

"That wasn't in my plans."

Guinevere kissed her again before admiring her work.

"You look great – I think we should even consider changing the royal outfits."

"We'll add it on the council agenda someday if you want. Now would my lady like a last dance as we're still dressed ?"

Her smile meant everything.

 

.:.

 

"Guinevere ? Thank you for this."

Guinevere gave her her brightest smile.

"Always there for you, love."


End file.
